


I'm Feeling Good (Like I Never Should)

by zerohournineam



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alcohol, Coming Out, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, background korrasami and bopal, i allow wu to have ONE badass moment before he inevitably has a nervous breakdown about it, not compliant with the comics but thats ok, oblivious crushing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22872016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerohournineam/pseuds/zerohournineam
Summary: Change is in the air, and King Wu of all people should know this better than anyone. But his unexpected outburst at a meeting makes Mako reconsider a lot of things—both about Wu and himself.
Relationships: Mako/Prince Wu (Avatar)
Comments: 59
Kudos: 952





	I'm Feeling Good (Like I Never Should)

“Seriously, can we stop talking about him?”

Bolin huffs as Mako markedly walks ahead of him. “It’s not like I’m trying to bring it up! You’re the one who keeps acting like he’s still here!”

“I am not!”

“Bro, just a minute ago you _tried to pick me up_ when I said my feet were tired.” He jabs Mako in the shoulder as he catches up. “By the way, sidenote—seriously? He’d ask you to carry him around bridal style?”

“It’s not my fault the guy’s built like a twig. It was just more convenient for me. Anyways, look, we’re here,” Mako says, pushing the glass doors of the Lotus Bowl open and letting the faint orange light and grilled meat of the restaurant waft out into the grey, overcast afternoon of Republic City for just a moment. Bolin closes his eyes and smiles as he breathes it in, and Mako waits until he opens them back up to glare at him before they walk in.

“Now promise me that you won’t mention Wu even once.”

“As long as _you_ don’t bring him up,” Mako hears him mutter as the door closes them in from the cold.

Korra and Asami are waiting for them at the same table like they’ve always done since this place first opened up and turned into Team Avatar’s rendezvous; it's not quite the same as Kwong's Cuisine, which crumbled down in the aftermath of recent destruction, but Mako supposes nearly nothing is nor will ever be the same as it used to be. An era of change is upon them. But the familiarity of his friends' grins and the way they jump out of their seats like they haven’t seen each other in ages when they really just saw each other last week puts him at ease. And there’s a new yet gentle easing into familiarity in the brief moment he sees the two’s hands intertwined under the table.

“Mako! Bolin!”

They exchange hugs in a sort of squished together square. Bolin hugs Mako too even though there’s quite literally no reason to other than his little brother getting caught up in the moment. But he always does anyways. And then they’ll sit down and talk and eat and laugh, because that’s what they always do. Everything’s fine.

Korra props an elbow on the table as she slides back down. “Opal couldn’t make it?”

Oh, right. Sometimes his brother’s girlfriend joins them too, and she’s definitely nice enough, but Mako _never_ knows what to say to her. Or if he’s expected to say anything at all—no, that’s stupid. Of course he should say something, Bolin and her are already practically married (even though Mako has warned him not to even think about actually tying the knot until at least a couple years from now. Even though Opal’s probably the one, he’s tried to do it way too many times before with girls who only lasted a week). He’s suddenly very aware of the fact that he’s in her seat, between Bolin and Korra, and he almost feels like he pushed her out.

“—last-minute mission at the Western Air Temple,” he hears Bolin say as their food is served, and he tunes back in. “Something about fake acolytes who wanted to develop over sacred land? Turned out their tattoos were actually blue paint. It’s a pretty funny story, really. We were kind of on a pre-date before this date this morning when they called her—”

He gets up in the middle of Bolin’s story, and it’s a relief not to sit in that chair anymore. _Fuck,_ he’s so mad that he’s relieved. He digs around his pocket and pinches a small coin out, and presses it into the box near the entrance. He tries to do it quickly, to make it look like he’s doing _something,_ but he just ends up banging his ankle against the metal. Fuck.

 _Get it together._ The newspaper slides out and he pulls it out between two fingers. _So you’re single. Get over it._

He wasn’t even sure if that was what was going on, but it was reasonable enough for him to get mad about, and unreasonable enough for him to get _mad_ at getting mad about. So that was his problem.

“Oh, tear out the sports section for me,” Bolin says as Mako gets back. “I heard the Ember Island Eel Hounds were crushed last night. I would’ve watched it myself, but I was too _busy.”_ He smirks. “You know. With _O—”_

“I _really_ don’t need to hear that, actually.”

“What? We were watching a mover.”

“Uh-huh,” Mako says, and Korra and Asami’s laughter can’t help but finally make him crack a smile too, and everything is back to normal—spirits, he’s always in over his head over nothing, as if one mover star at the table isn't already enough. Everything's fine. He tears out the sports section and hands it to Bolin. “Here. So what did I miss?”

“Well, I was saying Korra actually drove us here (“And we’re both in one piece,” Asami’s girlfriend interjects)—so she thinks she’s ready to drop all of us off here next time.”

Korra grins. “Can you believe I’ve mastered all four elements and bridged the gap between the spirit and human worlds but I still can’t drive a Satomobile?”

Mako grins back. “Come on, Korra, we need to be able to do something better than you.”

“Uh, Mako?” Bolin begins uncertainly.

“Huh?”

Bolin waves his paper in his brother’s face. “This is the politics section.”

“Oh—” Mako begins, and his face is already burning with embarrassment before he can acknowledge it. “That’s what I used to rip out in…um…” He sighs and yanks it back. “Shit.”

Bolin reaches across to tear out the pro-bending match for himself. “Really? That’s what Wu would read? Seemed like more of an opinions column guy to me.”

“He only cares about that one advice column that comes out on Sundays,” Mako says, lazily grabbing the memory without second thought. “Ask Aunt Changchang—damn it,” he hisses. He broke his own rule. And everyone else seems to find it hilarious that he did, as always.

He clenches his fist, the one with the scar ribboned over it. He’s sick of this sort of familiarity.

No one paid attention to it when his arm was still healing. Or maybe he was in too much pain to notice what he was doing, or maybe his friends saw him in so much pain that it didn’t matter to them what he was doing, as long as he was just _doing._

But then one morning, after sleeping over at Bolin’s and then rolling out of bed and shuffling to the kitchen, bleary eyed from both sleep deprivation and a giant shot of pain meds after taking off his cast for the first time last night, he glances down at the plate of eggs Bolin took from the counter and frowns.

“Why are these boiled?”

“Whajamean,” Bolin asks as he pops one whole into his mouth.

“Wu likes ‘em over easy,” Mako mumbles confidently, if you could even do that, with his eyes still half closed, and then Bolin nearly chokes. He’s never let Mako live that one down since.

It’s only after an hour or so when Mako’s fully awake that he registers what exactly happened, and barely a week later when he realizes just how _stuck_ he is. Waiting nearly an hour outside the bathroom before he leaves the house because _someone’s_ supposedly in there and always takes forever to preen his eyebrows, accidentally ordering a black and a sugary coffee on his way to work, getting the wrong mover ticket at the theatre because _someone_ always liked the sappy romance stories better than the action feature Mako and his friends were planning to see.

So every single day now, he tries. He wakes up and promises himself, _nothing in my life has to do with Wu anymore,_ and then immediately fails because his first waking thought has to do with him. It’s been months. His friends just seem to accept it as a new sort of familiarity.

“Aw, leave him alone, Bolin,” Korra says, but he’s already quit making fun of his brother in favor of poring over last night’s match. “Poor Mako’s had to spend nearly three years with King Wu.”

She’s the only one out of any of them to call Wu that. It makes Mako feel weird. Though of course it makes sense—Korra’s the one who actually meets up with him in the Earth Kingdom every month, as her duty to make sure the transition of power goes smoothly. She’s actually seen him actively _be_ the King apart from just his coronation.

Although he doesn’t see any good reason for her to visit that often. Of course, he _knows_ why she has to visit that often—the announcement of Wu’s abdication quickly lit a spark throughout the world, but it was an angry one. Accusations that he wouldn’t actually go through with it, and that the reason the Avatar should constantly meet up with him was so he doesn’t screw it up. It was a bullshit reason, and it offended Mako, really, because Wu’s just about the most stubborn person he’s met in his entire life. He’d never give up on something as big as this. He probably wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he promised something this big and didn’t deliver—yeah, he's probably a little stressed because long-term political restructuring isn't exactly the same as promising a sparkly shindig, but for Raava's sake, that doesn't mean he can't _do_ it. 

Whatever. Not his problem. He shouldn’t get so mad about it.

“—I’m just saying it’s gonna take him a while to get adjusted,” Korra says.

“What? I’m perfectly adjusted!” he protests, snapping back to the present, and Bolin shoves his right arm away, which held a napkin Mako had been trying to dab at a stain with.

“Hey! Dude!”

Mako tosses the napkin aside like he’d accidentally set it on fire. Asami’s head is bent over the table, a hand over her mouth.

“Mako, I’m on your side, I swear. But you’re just making it _really_ hard not to laugh at you right now.”

Korra flicks her fingers a little, playing around with the water in her glass. “You know, speaking of, King Wu is holding one of his benchmark meetings again for the Earth states. I usually go by myself, but I think it’d be nice if we could all visit Ba Sing Se—”

“No.”

“Aw, c’mon Mako!” Bolin slaps him on the back. “A trip down old memory lane. It’s like you never left.”

Mako shoves him away. “Okay, _definitely_ no now.”

He’s on the train two days later, his face in his palms nearly the entire time. He becomes so used to keeping his eyes closed that he stumbles a little when he gets off and blinks hard at the light outside. Bolin tugs on him so he keeps his balance and takes a deep breath in.

“Ah! Welcome to Ba Sing Se, Mako!”

He groans. “Remind me why I’m doing this again.”

“Well, as part of team Avatar, it’s not only Korra’s, but your duty to help maintain balance in the world.” He grins. “Asami told me to word it like that. Makes you feel more guilty if you don’t come. Anyways, just relax, Mako. You don’t work for Wu anymore. You don’t have to talk to him if you hate him that much.”

Mako blinks. “But—”

“Ah, ah, no ifs no buts no coconuts! Just enjoy yourself. Like I’m gonna be doing at the mall. Have you seen the size of that thing—? Ohhh, yeah, you have. Been there a million times in the past few years—you know, I'd be jealous if not for the whole stuck with a person you hate thing. I’ll catch up with you guys later,” he says, and runs off. Mako shoves his hands in his pockets and trudges along behind Korra and Asami.

“But I don’t hate him…” he mutters, long after Bolin’s out of view.

* * *

“Would you look at that, it’s the Avatar! Oh, and Miss Sato too! That’s new!”

Wu hugs both of them, perhaps a little longer than he needs to, and cracks into a grin as he breaks away from Korra.

“Man, it’s great to see you again. I feel like we haven’t talked in forever. You’d think it’s been a month or something.”

“It has been a month.”

Wu blinks. “Ah—well, yeah, that’s kind of—” he rubs the back of his neck. “I was trying to make a joke,” he finishes uncertainly, and gives a weak smile that immediately grows about ten times its size once he catches sight of the doorway again.

“Oh my spirits,” he breathes, and runs up to Mako, shaking his head. “No, no, no, no, it couldn’t be. Are my eyes deceiving me?” And then he slaps his back and breaks into little laughs. “Mako! Big guy! It’s _actually_ you! Goodness, you haven’t seen me since I got crowned, I was beginning to worry you forgot your best friend existed.”

“Um. Right.” Mako’s stiff as a board. And then Wu grabs him by the arm, hugging it between his elbow as they walk through the halls, and it’s just like old times—so much so that he slides his arm out of Wu’s grasp while he’s busy talking. Wu doesn’t seem to notice. In fact, it’s so ridiculously easy that Mako wonders why he didn’t realize he could just _do_ that all these years. Maybe _he_ was the one with attachment issues. He widens his stride and desperately tries to shrug off the embarrassment.

“Well, I was expecting you a little later today, but I guess we can get all the boring stuff out of the way right now.” Of course Wu chooses the couch Mako happens to sit on. “You see, there’s been a bit of a problem with the nobles and land redistribution. But, _pfff,_ then again, they’re _nobles_. It’s kind of their job to go against everything I say now.”

Mako doesn’t really pay attention to the conversation. Everyone seems to know what they’re doing and what they’re talking about, so the little snips he does manage to hear just make him angry, because they’re all about how Wu basically has his hands tied behind his back most of the time unless the Avatar is there to voice her approval. And he doesn’t need to get worked up about that, it’s not his job anymore—well, it never really was his _job,_ but he doesn’t see anyone else frustrated about the fact that the Kingdom could dissolve much quicker if everyone just let Wu do what he was supposed to. Even Wu doesn’t seem to be too upset about it, and it makes Mako want to yell at him, so he edges away across the couch to give himself some distance.

(Wu slides back up to him in less than a minute.)

Bolin arrives eventually, and Mako takes it as a chance to get up and claim the far right corner of the room to himself. He’s surprised at how civil the two are being when Wu says hi; he remembers how annoyed Bolin seemed by him back when he worked for Kuvira, although he guesses it didn’t hurt that Wu really hit it off with Pabu at Varrick and Zhu Li’s wedding. By serenading him. He always had the strangest way with animals.

But then Bolin goes on about some street magician he saw switching around rocks under cups who he kept wasting his money on to win a prize, and Korra and Asami try to convince him it was a scam and the rock was probably earthbent under a different cup at the last minute, and Wu listens in and smiles politely enough but edges away a little and leans against a pillar. He looks awkward as he crosses his arms, like he’s not used to doing so, and Mako’s finally about to give in because, well, he just feels like a _jerk_ now, of course Wu would gravitate to him if he didn’t feel like he belonged.

But then he sees Wu’s gaze, fixed. Korra and Asami's hands, intertwined. Mako hopes he’s just spaced out, but a part of him silently churns. He knows just how normal people can look and seem up until they say something about two women in a relationship. The two have said they don’t care, but Mako does. Sometimes people just don’t know when to keep their mouth shut, and sometimes they do but it just means they have something far worse going on in their thoughts.

Mako inches in a little closer. Wu’s expression is unreadable as he watches Korra and Asami share a quick kiss.

He’d better not say anything.

“—Anyways, Wu, if you’re still having problems with nobles, I can always tell them I’m backing your decision. The Avatar _and_ the Earth King should be enough to shut them up.”

Wu kicks himself off of the pillar and shrugs, looking down at the floor. “Eh, it’d probably be mostly the Avatar,” he says, so disheartenedly that Mako nearly forgets his suspicions for a second and just feels _bad._ “I mean. I would appreciate it, but I kinda wanna see how I can handle it first. Totally down for advice, though.” He smiles, quickly changing his demeanor. “Make sure you tell me all about your best Avatar intimidation tactics next time you write me.”

Korra grins. “Will do.”

Mako relaxes a little. Alright, so they send letters to each other. If he knows Wu, he would have let something slip by accident in all of those rambling paragraphs, and if he knows Korra, she never would have let that slide. He doesn’t get what else Wu would have to say to her outside of her visits, though. He frowns. He’d better not be bothering her for no reason.

Wu claps. “Well! That’s all the boring stuff. Since you guys all came together, you wanna do some sightseeing around the ol’ Big Boulder, I’m assuming?”

“Yeah. We’ll be sure to let you know when we’re catching the train back tonight, though.”

He sighs. “Well, I _wish_ I could be your tour guide, but sadly, a meeting awaits me now. Kingly duties to attend to, you know. I’ll send you out with a proper map, though, ‘cause the people who try to scam tourists here are crazy. Just ask someone out front before you leave.”

“Alright,” Korra calls out as they begin to make their way out. “Thanks.”

Mako’s halfway out the door when he’s grabbed by the wrist.

“Um—wait!”

He tries to shove him off, but spirits, Wu is gripping him tightly. He only does that when he’s _really_ distressed, like when he begged Mako to give his coronation speech for him in his stead, or when he found out he was out the whole day with his socks mismatched, so Mako closes his eyes and sighs. “What?”

Wu smiles sheepishly. “Welll, I’ve kind of had some tough luck with my past few meetings. So uh, I was thinking, y’know? Maybe you could come with? For moral support? I mean, you’ve seen the best of Ba Sing Se before anyway,” he blurts out before Mako can say anything. “You’d probably just get bored.”

He’s finally able to shake his hand free. “I thought we went over this, we’re not your entourage.”

Wu rolls his eyes. “Well, duh! That’s why I’m just asking you to come.”

“Forget it, it’d be pointless.”

“Actually, I think it could be useful.”

Mako turns around to look at Korra. “What?” 

“King Wu told me the meeting has to do with establishing the new democracy’s ties with Republic City. Out of all the things we could have input on, this would benefit us the most. Besides,” she smirks. “You did say you didn’t wanna waste time looking at stuff you’ve already seen.”

“Yes! I knew it!” Wu says, draping an arm over Mako’s shoulder. “Once you’ve gotten a mud bath at all five spas around here, things get _pretty_ boring. I speak from experience. And you would have too if you'd actually joined me instead of watching all stony-faced. I mean, seriously! Isn't your brother the earthbender?"

And now the rest of them are just walking out on him, and he’s just standing there gaping. “But—” he begins, then scrambles away from the word to try and form a new sentence that doesn’t sound as accusatory. “But—” he tries again. Bolin punches him in the arm.

“Have fun, bro. And if you end up grabbing dinner without us, make—” he snickers for about half a minute, unable to finish his own sentence. “—make sure the king’s eggs get served _over easy.”_

“Nice! How did he know that?”

Mako groans. “Ugh, just lead the way.”

* * *

He’s silent for most of the trip, busying himself with tracing the looping gold lines on what seems to be a never-ending green carpet stretching out against countless hallways Wu guides him through. Mako can hear him talking incessantly, his voice high pitched and bouncing off the walls almost as if to make up for the fact that Wu himself couldn’t do so. Most of what he says is just a list of grievances of all the officials who harass him in his meetings, some regulars and some he’s only met up with once. Wu never forgets a name or a face. Mako wishes he would so he could do something more useful with his time.

And then Wu stops, clears his throat several times, each one obnoxiously louder than the last, and stands in front of Mako, dropping both hands onto his shoulders. His voice is solemn, every word carefully enunciated.

“Hey, now that we’re alone…I _really_ need to tell you something.”

Mako blinks. “What?”

The silence lasts for nearly a minute and it’s almost unbearable, but then Wu’s face melts into a goofy smile once more as he wraps his arms around Mako so tight that Mako swears if Wu had even an ounce of muscle in his body, he could have lifted Mako a good inch and a half off the floor.

“Ohh, I missed you _so_ much!”

His face feels warm. Embarrassment. Although he’s not sure if it’s at Wu or himself for keeping away from him from so long it began to feel like he was a child playing hogmonkey in the middle. Or maybe the hug just seemed so genuine that he felt like an asshole. Regardless, he looks away and down at the golden spirals on the floor as he breaks free.

“I…you could have just said that out there,” he mutters.

Wu scoffs. “Well, I wanted you to pay attention when I said it.” He jabs a finger at his chest as they start walking again. “You zone out when I speak sometimes. Man, never a moment’s rest in that noggin of yours, huh?”

“What, you think it should be more like yours?”

“Huh? Oh. _Oh._ Wow. Ouch. Okay.”

Wu’s clearly laughing, but it just makes Mako go hot again. Yeah, it was definitely embarrassment for being an asshole. How hard was it to just say _me too?_ Just two words, _me too?_ He doesn’t even have to say _I missed you too._ It’s not like he even has to _mean_ it, he just wants to stop feeling like an asshole, and the first way is to stop looking like one. It seems that’s all he can ever feel these days.

“Mako!” At some point Wu had gotten behind him, while Mako was trying to decide how he could make _me too_ sound the least awkward it could in his mouth, and he grabs one of Mako’s arms in one hand and waves the other in front of Mako’s face. “Hellooo,” he says, then laughs a little. “See, what did I tell you? Zoned out again. The door’s over there, buddy.”

The meeting ends up unbearably stuffy despite the room being so spacious it borders on ridiculous. Here he was thinking Wu was the impatient type when he’s sat through _hundreds_ of these things with mostly snooty, rich old men taking up the table with their comically large silk robes and flowing beards and jade earrings that hung to their shoulders like they were at a glorified costume party, coughing between every syllable even though they had more than enough money to be in perfectly good health just to draw attention to their words. Only twenty minutes in and Mako’s body suddenly feels the desperate need to catch up on all those sleepless nights he had stayed up late for work back in Republic City.

Wu just sits there perfectly straight and still in his chair, like he’s practiced it a thousand times over in his mind, but the gentle back and forth rocking of his crossed legs betrays him. Every time Mako feels himself dozing off, he tilts his head back and eyes him. And every single time without fail, he can see Wu’s eyes darting across the room, listening intently to every single word the committee is saying before trying to join in, and then immediately getting cut off by someone else before he can get more than one word out. And then, Wu, like the stubborn idiot he is, closes his mouth and waits for another opening before he gets cut off again. And again. And again.

Mako wants to get out of his chair, grab him by both shoulders, yell right up in his face. _Why does it matter what they think? Just talk. Stop waiting for them to let you._ But instead he closes his eyes. The chairs here are thick and cushioned and way too easy to sink your back into for a foreign policy meeting…

“What do you mean there’s no need for a new ambassador? If we want this transition to be peaceful, we need allies.”

His eyes snap open. Wu’s voice, _finally._ The old man he’s addressing wears a robe adorned with green leaves, woven to float tranquilly against pale yellow, the same tint of the tiny glasses hooked around his nose, but his stare is the coldest one in the entire room from what Mako can see. And the bar is underground. The man gives a small, wheezy cough before he speaks.

“Well, I believe the Earth Kingdom is far more self-sufficient than you give it credit for, King Wu.” He adjusts his glasses. “I implore you to consider that I was a top official in your aunt’s court for nearly her entire reign, and there was never a crucial need for us to call on any—er, _allies,_ as you call them—to come to our aid. The ties we did have were ceremonial at best and a waste of resources at worst.”

Wu frowns. “But—"

He waves his hand dismissively. “Ba Sing Se has no need for any of that. _You_ may not understand since your reign has barely begun and is going to end just as soon, but I speak from experience.” He smirks.

Mako clenches his fist. Spirits, what a _dick._

Wu considers this. “Well, I think you’re right, Sir Xing, we should draw from experience when we rebuild the Earth nation.”

Xing’s smug smile seems to stretch too wide for his wrinkled face to be able to handle, and Mako wants to punch him. “Excellent.”

“That’s why I think we should look back to what happened to our capital the last time we chose to close ourselves off from the rest of the world a hundred and forty years ago.”

Xing falters. “Er—pardon?”

“The Grand Secretariat of Ba Sing Se claimed we didn’t need ties with anyone else, to protect ourselves during the Hundred Year War,” Wu says. “He made sure the king had no idea what was going on—”

“Yes, but—”

“— _And_ he made sure to use the exact same reason you did. To keep the Earth Kingdom self-sufficient. Our people were arrested if they put even a toe out of line and mentioned the Fire Nation. The Dai Li brainwashed them in prison to crush opposition. Did you forget?”

“What? Hmph, of course not—”

“And what did that lead to? A dictatorship and a crumbling government that was eventually given up to the princess of the Fire Nation to play around with like a tigerpython kitten with a fish dangling from a string. I mean, we're not _fish_ —! No wait, that's not what I mean. I mean, man, what a _mess,”_ Wu sighs, and that’s when Mako realizes there wasn’t a hint of malice in anything he’d just explained to Xing—and he realizes he was quite literally on the edge of his seat this whole time, watching Wu unintentionally pummel the shit out of Xing’s words like he was delivering the final blow in a pro-bending match.

“I’d like it if we didn’t have to deal with all of that again,” Wu says, and looks around the room. “So? Should we start looking into establishing a new embassy at Republic City? Who’s with me?”

Xing’s face burns like raw salmon as every other official raises their hand. Wu’s too busy jumping out of his chair and pumping his fist, celebrating that people are actually listening to him for once to notice. It’s so infectious that Mako can’t help but smile a little.

“Well, _perhaps_ we need to reestablish ties,” Xing mutters begrudgingly, “but I think it’s best if we take this as a chance to end them with Republic City.”

Wu shuts up and sits back down, slow, confused. “Huh?”

Xing sniffs. “As you might be aware of, the Avatar resides there.”

“Uh…so? Isn’t that a good thing?”

The heavy silence that follows seems even nastier than any words that could come after it. But then Xing opens his mouth.

“We simply don’t need her sort of, ah… _lifestyle_ involved in our politics.”

And then that’s it—Mako knew it. He knew what was coming, and now that it has, he’s more than ready to get as _involved_ as he can in this meeting, send old man Xing flying out through the ten-panel yellow-tinted window, but—

“Excuse me?”

Wu is quicker. He’s jumped out of his seat, both his hands gripping the table as tight as he can as he nervously eyes Xing.

“I know we all try to ignore it in light of the recent destruction here she saved us from, but there’s no denying her _affair—”_

“What the—” Wu sputters, “what affair?” then shakes his head in disbelief. “Woah, woah, hold on, you don’t mean with Asami, do you?”

Xing rolls his eyes, as if it’s obvious. “Well, clearly she’s with another woman—”

“Yeah, openly in a relationship!” Wu leans as far as that stupid blocky table will let him, his frown deepening. “With all due respect, Sir Xing, how is who she loves even remotely relevant to the Earth nation’s situation right now?”

“It shouldn’t be is what I’m saying!” He pushes his glasses up his nose indignantly. “We don’t need all that unnatural nonsense tainting our ways of tradition—”

“Listen, I don’t know if you got the memo, but the whole point is we’re trying to change tradition!”

At least ten coughs before he begins this time, his voice dripping and cloying and making Mako want to gag. “My highness, I assure you I only have your best interest in mind. I support your desire for progression, but there’s a fine line between _your_ noble goal and falling into debasement. All I’m saying is that the Avatar in a _female_ reincarnation with _another girl—”_

“Asami,” Wu says, and it’s the most clipped and trembling thing Mako’s ever heard come out of his mouth. It freezes Mako in place as he realizes.

Wu is _furious._

Xing narrows his eyes. “Hm?”

“Her _name_ is Asami, and without her _or_ the Avatar _your sorry ass_ would have died in the crossfire and you wouldn’t be here talking about how disgusting you think the people who saved your life are.” Mako’s breath hitches. Wu _never_ curses.

A few gasps are made out from either corner of the room, and Xing himself stammers a bit before finding his footing. “King Wu, I _hardly_ find that sort of language appropriate to use here—”

“Then get out,” Wu says.

 _“Excuse_ me?”

Wu jerks his finger towards the door. “If you _disagree with their lifestyle_ so much, then get out. I am not going to tolerate any disrespect towards Avatar Korra or her _girlfriend.”_

“But I—”

“Get _out.”_

He slams his hand on the table, glaring, his hard gaze just as cold as Xing’s when Mako first saw him, as the man slowly registers the atmosphere of the situation, inhales sharply in disbelief as the rest of the committee stays dead silent, and walks out the door, his back stiff as a board the whole way as if to retain what little pride he had left.

Mako’s face is burning between all the silence. He’s not sure why. He wasn’t the one doing all the yelling.

“Wu…” He begins, but he has no idea how to finish the sentence. And then Wu starts shaking, like a building about to fall right after a storm.

_“Oh, Wu down!”_

He lets go of the table and Mako leaps out of his chair just in time for Wu to collapse into his arms. He lets out a shaky breath and points a finger in the air.

“Meeting adjourned MakopleasetakemetothenearestbathroomIfeellikeI’mgonnathrowup.”

Mako tries to hoist him back up by his arms, and naturally, he refuses to stand. He ends up dragging him across the floor out into the hallway—and then he hears a ragged gasp, almost like Wu’s in pain, and notices how sweaty the palms of his hands gripping Mako’s sleeves are, and sighs and scoops him up to carry him. Whatever. It’s easier for him this way, anyhow.

Wu doesn’t even seem to notice. Worry begins to rise up in Mako’s gut.

“Hey,” he says, as they make a turn in the hall. “You did the right thing back there.”

_“OhhI’mgonnadie.”_

Mako huffs. “No you’re not. Relax. So you told off some old bigot you’ll probably never see again. It’s not that big of a deal.”

He doesn’t really find it in him to say it so harsh, but he also knows it’s the only way to make Wu snap out of it whenever he’s like this. It doesn’t work. Rivers of sweat slide down his forehead and his breaths get quicker and sharper by the minute, like something in his throat is stabbing him each time he tries. Mako frown deepens.

“…Wu. You’re starting to freak me out.”

“Huh?” He turns his head around to look up at him, his gaze unfocused and squinting halfway. “Mako,” he says, as if finally noticing him for the first time. He gently props Wu up against the wall near the bathroom.

“Take a deep breath.”

Wu stares at him. “But I—”

“Just do it. Don’t think of anything else.” Wu complies. His breaths are still shaky, but he’s holding onto the hand on his shoulder tighter than ever, like he’s scared Mako will let go before he’s ready. Mako frowns because he thinks that’s pointless. Of course he won’t let go before Wu is ready. He waits it out until he can clearly tell the difference between when he inhales and when he exhales.

“Do you still feel like you’re gonna throw up?”

“…No.”

So Mako’s ready to pry his hand free, but Wu actually _shoves_ him off. Mako nearly starts stammering before he makes the wise decision to close his mouth. He watches, silent, as Wu pushes himself upright, fingers splayed against the wall for support. He looks alarmingly small with his back hunched, staring down.

“Alright,” Mako says finally, “so what was that all about?”

Wu’s head tilts up, but his eyes are still on the floor. “Huh? Nothing. I, um…gonna…splash some water on my face,” he murmurs quickly before pushing on the bathroom door, but instead of walking in he just leans on it, head to the side in confusion as he frowns. It takes Mako a second to realize he’s staring at _him._ And then it takes another second for him to realize he had followed Wu inside.

_Fucking—_

Wu gives him a weak smile. “You’re not my bodyguard anymore, you know.”

He steps back, and his eyes are on the floor too. Great, so even Wu’s seen him make a fool of himself now.

“Yeah,” he says too quickly, and leans back against the wall for a minute.

But then a minute turns into two. Then three, then four. Mako pinches the bridge of his nose, shakes his head, tries to think about something else, but numbers are too easy to think about; they just keep on going, one after the other without him even having to make an effort. Five minutes. Six minutes. Seven minutes.

He gives it ten, then promises to give it eleven, then breaks that promise halfway through and rushes inside, bending stance ready, when he spots him. Hunched over the sink.

Wu jolts up and turns around, then immediately turns back the moment he sets eyes on Mako.

_Crying._

Mako watches as he turns the tap off and wipes his face with his sleeve instead. But after his hands are still glued to the sides of the sink, hair dangling down near the drain, like he’s afraid, like he doesn’t want anyone to look at him.

“Sorry,” he says, like he genuinely has something to be ashamed of, and it takes all Mako has in him to not shoot out a stripe of fire from his palm as he explodes.

“You’re not supposed to be sorry! You know you did the right thing back there or else you wouldn’t have done it.”

“That’s exactly it!” Wu snaps, whipping around. “I’m not supposed to do the right thing!”

“What the—don’t be stupid!”

“You’re being stupid!” His voice goes up half an octave. He glares, stomping around the tiles like a child and then stops for a moment, almost like he’s embarrassed, almost like he’s worn out, and sighs. “Mako, look. Things might be more accepting in Republic City but the Earth Kingdom’s always been slow to change—no, that’s not right. It’s _resistant_ to change.” He hugs himself. “Just because I want things to change doesn’t mean they just will. I mean—sweet old lady, bless her heart, but you’ve seen Grandma Yin. You think I can get her to stop worshiping the monarchy, putting up framed pictures of me, by tomorrow morning?”

“No,” Mako says almost immediately.

“They used to kill people here,” Wu mutters, shaky, like he doesn’t want to believe it, and then says it again louder. “They used to _kill_ people here. Because of who they loved. Did you know that? I don’t know how, but all the books say they just sliced their heads clean off. Or buried them alive. Or crushed them with a giant rock.” His words start getting wound up as he wiggles his fingers. “I mean granted it was more than a hundred years ago but, ha! You know, not exactly the best track record for your nation—”

“Wu—”

He’s pacing back and forth across the tiles now. “And people think that just because we don’t technically _do_ it anymore means there’s not a single person here who still wants it to be done. People like Xing? They’re dangerous! Because if they were born just a few decades or a century earlier, it wouldn’t just be about some stupid lifestyle they didn’t agree of. It’d be about people’s _lives!”_

He exhales, sharply, then a bit deeper and slower once he catches Mako looking at him. He was nearly about to start crying again, and Mako doesn’t think he can handle that a second time; just the thought of it makes him want to throw flames again. That makes him an asshole, doesn’t it? Of course it does, when his best friend is—

Ah.

_Shit._

Mako sighs. “Okay, I think I get it now. But why did you act like you were the one who was going to die?”

He turns away.

“Wu.”

“Oh wow! Time sure flies when you have a panic attack in the middle of your meeting, doesn’t it?” He laughs (though it sounds more like a yelp), grabs Mako by the arm, jerking him past each tile until they’re back in the hallway. His smile looks like a million little broken pieces he tried taping back together the wrong way. “I think it’s time you get back to Korra and the gang. You wanna take the short way or the long way out? Ha! Just kidding, we’re gonna do the short way if I can just figure out which hallway we came from—”

_“Wu!”_

“Alright!” He deflates. “Alright, fine. I…” He squeezes Mako’s arm tighter as if to hold onto something, and then his eyes catch up and he nervously bounces away. No one talks for a minute, but it looks like Wu is trying to tell him a million things at once. Then he sighs.

“I like men.”

Oh. _Oh._ But—

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Wu scoffs, and it’s almost annoying how quick he’s back to his normal self, considering how badly Mako wishes he had actually sent Xing flying through the window now. “Huh. Rude, but you’re not looking at me like I have the plague, so that’s a start.”

“I—” Mako feels his face grow warm; he’s always terrible with this sort of thing. “No. I just meant…you flirt with women all the time…”

Wu rolls his eyes. “Oh, please, Mako. I flirt with anything that moves. And besides, Korra and Asami like men too, don’t they? That doesn’t mean they can’t like each other.”

“So you like women and men.”

“Well—no.” He leans back against the wall, slides down, tucks his chin in the gap between his knees. “Just guys. Half the reason I flirt with the dames is just because it’s fun. The other half’s ‘cause I felt like I had to.”

Mako sits down too. “Right. I’m sure Asami was just dying for you to ask her out.”

Wu shudders. “Ugh, one of my worst moments. Let’s not talk about that.”

Okay, Mako admits that makes him laugh. Wu joins in.

And then they’re quiet again, but it’s comfortable. Wu doesn’t feel the need to fill in the silence. Mako doesn’t feel the need to walk away from the silence.

Then: “Thanks.”

It’s said so solemnly that Mako doesn’t realize it’s Wu at first. He blinks.

“Um, sure. For what?”

“For not acting like I’m stupid.”

“Well, I did call you that.”

“Yeah, but that was after you lugged me all the way to the bathroom.” He looks down at his knees. “And calmed me down. I don’t think anyone else would’ve done that.”

“Of course they would have. It doesn’t matter what you said back there, you’re their king. You’re kind of important.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says quietly. And then he’s back on his feet before Mako can even think of saying anything, and grins. “So, ready to find our way back?”

 _They won’t hurt you,_ that’s what he wants to say as he’s walking behind Wu. But Wu is just so— _silent_ right now, doing nothing but looking straight ahead, like he’s scared he’ll reveal something else if he opens his mouth again, that Mako’s figured he’s had enough of that conversation. And to be fair, so has Mako; what was he supposed to say, if anything? Does saying something mean he’s being weird about it? Does saying nothing mean he’s an asshole?

When Korra and Asami told him, he had so many questions he just never asked—mainly, how long have you known and _how_ did you know. He remembers being so close to asking the last one before realizing how stupid it must sound—how do you measure who you love?—and just ended up nodding and smiling when the two came back from the Spirit World holding hands.

Mako really was always terrible at this sort of thing.

“So,” he says, trying to divert the subject. “You and Korra have been writing letters?”

Wu turns around. “Oh.” He looks a little taken aback. “Um, yeah. I just brief her on what’s been going on here with the democratization process and sometimes she gives me suggestions on what I could change.”

“Oh. Okay. But you still wanted _me_ at your meeting?” Mako asks, and before he can stop himself, “Even though you keep bothering _her?”_

Wu stops. “Wait, no. No, no way.” He puts a hand to his forehead. He’s laughing. He’s nearly doubled over when Mako scowls at him.

“What?”

“Are you—” He wipes his eyes. “Are you wondering why I didn’t _write to you?_ Is _that_ why you were mad at me back there?”

“I was mad at you?”

“Oh, come _on,_ I saw you moving away from me every single time I tried to talk.”

Now it’s Mako’s turn to slap himself on the forehead. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Sorry.”

Wu falls back to Mako’s pace before they start walking again. “Sooo…you weren’t mad at me?”

“Not mad at you, just…mad, I guess.”

“Yeesh,” he says through gritted teeth. “Hope you unpack all of that sometime soon.” Mako grunts. Wu jabs him in the elbow.

“I didn’t write to you ‘cause your arm was still healing, silly. And what would I even write about? Paperwork? Believe me, there is _so_ much paperwork. I eat and crap paperwork like some tortoise-hen running around in a filing department. Like, I might sound like an entitled jerk saying this, but sometimes I wish I was illiterate.”

“Yeah, you definitely sound like an entitled jerk. Don’t say that.”

“Noted. But well, speaking of paperwork, I thought you might end up with your own share again once you got back to work, and! _And_ —I know how much you missed your job, and…well. Lots of excuses here, huh? I mean, I love getting down on the floor, but I've never been one to dance around the subject.” He walks forward again. For a moment, all Mako can see is his back before he turns around.

“So I guess in the end, I just didn’t send you anything because I got scared.”

Mako frowns. “Of what?”

Wu turns back again, walking lopsidedly along the curves of the carpet like a tightrope.

“I dunno. Life going on. You forgetting me.”

Mako’s looks away. Shit. That was exactly what he’d been trying to do, wasn’t it? Make his life go on. Forget Wu. And now, _again_ , he’s not sure what he wants anymore.

Bolin said he didn’t have to talk to Wu if he hated him so much.

Maybe Wu had thought Mako hated him too.

_Shit._

Mako nearly walks into the couch of the room they first left from until Wu puts a hand on his chest. He’s never realized how prone he is to spacing out until now. Why hadn’t any of his other friends bothered to tell him?

Wu falls back against the cushions, arms out, taking nearly the whole couch up but not quite—he’s too short. He sighs. “You better get ready for your train.”

He springs back up instantly the moment Mako grabs hold of his wrist.

“Wait. Write me.”

* * *

_“Sweet potato, huh?” Wu says, squinting under the dim light of the bar, elbows slung over the granite counter on either side. He swirls his shot glass around before taking a sip and gagging, and Mako nearly jumps out of his seat thinking it’s poison until Wu winks at him._

_“Oh, this is disgusting!” He downs it then looks at the bartender, flushed. “Gimme another one.”_

_Mako relaxes. The idiot’s just drunk._

_Although he would be lying if he said he wasn’t waiting to see how long it would take. While the prince does frequent this place at least once a week, he usually never gets anything, just chatting up and dancing with the girls, and when he does get something, he still seems completely sober by the time they get home. Of all people, Mako never would have guessed Wu to be a heavyweight._

_“I_ am _going to do it today, Mako,” he said on his taxi there, and Mako stared at the sunset out the window and went, “Sure, whatever,” and Wu scoffed and tugged him by the arm until Mako turned around to look at him and frowned. “No, really! I_ will _go home with a dame tonight.” He sticks his tongue out._

 _“I’ll show_ you,” _he muttered, and Mako snorted, even though he shouldn’t, and went back to staring out the window._

_“Sure, whatever.”_

_So he’s probably trying every single drink on the menu and getting shitfaced to build up his confidence. Mako doesn’t really care either way; but maybe if Wu does hit it off, Mako could have the morning to himself for once. That sounds nice. Okay, so maybe Mako does care a little. But it’s not like Wu’s_ bad _at flirting._

_“Oh, and your dragonfruit special for the lady of course,” Wu tells the bartender. He winks at the girl sitting next to him. “Trust me, it’s the best one here. And you should trust me, I just tried everything. You sure you don’t want one, Mako?”_

_“No.”_

_Wu rolls his eyes, drink still in his hand, letting some of it slosh onto his tunic. “You’re sayin’ that just ‘cause it’s_ fruity _, aren’tcha?” He sighs. “Masculinity truly is so fragile.”_

_“So, um, my prince—”_

_He gives the girl a sloppy wave. “Pleeease, Natsumi, I’m just_ Wu _here.”_

 _She giggles. “Well,_ Wu, _I was thinking, since we really hit it off tonight...”_

_“Oh!” He tenses up, swallowing as Natsumi takes him by the hand and leans in. “Um, yeah?”_

_“Maybe we could share one last dance together, if you know what I mean?”_

_Mako sighs._ Finally.

_Wu stumbles to his feet, gripping onto the counter for support and knocking over a glass with his elbow. “Yeah, yeah, for sure! I’ll ask ‘em to play whatever you want,” he says, craning his neck around the room, “just uh—just give me a minute—”_

_She blushes as she leans in. “Not what I meant.”_

_“Oh,” Wu says as he raises his eyebrows. “Ohhh.” He clicks his tongue. “Well, Nats, I gotta say. You’re a peach, really. But it’s with greaaat sorrow that I gotta tell you somethin’.” He slides out of her arms._

_“Huh?”_

_“Uhhhh…” He blinks. “I’m taken.”_

_Great. There goes Mako’s morning._

_“Really showed me, huh?” he says as Wu slinks over to the seat next to him._

_Wu huffs, but his face is already so red Mako can’t tell if he’s blushing or not. “Nah, just wanted you to take note,” he says finally, trying to smirk. It just comes off as a grimace. “Little trick to use when you love the attention but don’t want the commitment.”_

_He looks away as Wu excuses himself to go puke. “Aren’t you a real charmer.”_

Mako rolls around for at least the tenth time tonight, trying to find a part of the mattress that doesn’t make him feel like his spine is about to be crushed between the hands of an earthbender. He eventually gives up and stares at the ceiling.

It really was all right there, wasn’t it? Right in front of him. He has no idea how he missed it. In all those three years, Wu had never actually gone out with a woman even though he’d never shut up about it.

But what surprises him the most is that Wu is still so remarkably the _same_ as he frantically whispers to Mako not to tell anyone as he leaves for the train back to Republic City, and forces him to swear with their pinkies like they were eight-year-olds.

He groans. Is he an asshole for thinking Wu’s still the same? Is he supposed to be different now? It’s been a week since he’s gotten back to his old life here. This should be the last thing on his mind.

Working on his cases is the only thing that makes him feel like he actually knows what he’s doing. So he gets up, not the least bit tired thanks to that spirits-damned, janky mattress, and rummages through his files. He brings the latest case, one about a kidnapping, out to the dining table and flips through.

And then it falls out. Wu’s letter.

Mako swears, he _has_ been meaning to reply. It’s just that the first day he was tired, the second day he went back to work, the third Bolin started bothering him about marriage again so he wasted half his day on that (still a resounding no from Mako), and then some sort of tingling pressure built up in his chest every single day after when he even thought about the letter. It grew every day. Guilt.

So instead he just reads it twenty times over, every single time when he finds it surfacing and sticking out in his drawer, written on pale yellow-green paper and—spirits—spritzed with cologne. He practically knows (and smells) it by heart at this point.

“Alright, fine,” he says no one in particular (or at least he’s trying to convince himself he’s not talking to a _letter)_ , and sets his paperwork aside. “Five minutes.”

But as soon as he’s inked a blank sheet with nothing but _W,_ there’s a resounding knock on his door. He’s suddenly glad he decided to light a candle instead of using the switch. No one should be knocking at this hour anyway. It couldn’t be his friends—they all have the keys to his apartment. Probably one of those new door-to-door sale scams he’s heard about. But then they knock again. And again. And—

They’re pounding on it like a giant drum they’re trying to punch a hole through by the time Mako’s at the door. His head hurts.

“Calm down,” Mako hisses, pulling at the handle, “what is your—”

“Shushushushushush, hurry up and close the door _Ican’tletanyoneseeme!”_

Someone flies in, slams it with his back and sighs as Mako gapes.

_“Wu?”_

His hair’s ungelled, dangling across his face and covering one eye, and he’s gripping a heavy green suitcase—well, heavy for Wu. It goes up to his knees and he probably dragged it across the floor on the way here— _why the fuck was he here?_

“Hey, buddy! Real glad I had your mailing address handy.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Funny story, really.” He saunters in like he’s lived here his whole life, then struggles to move a chair backwards, nearly tripping over himself, and sits down with his elbows slung over the back like nothing happened. “You know that little, um—outburst I had at the meeting, right?” He presses his fingers together. “Turns out Xing kind of, um. Ratted me out to the tabloids.”

Mako’s jaw clenches. Old fucking bastard.

“It was wild, let me tell you. You just mind your own business, take a trip to the sauna to clear up your pores, because well, let's face it, you _deserve_ it after having to put up with all of that, mail a letter to your best friend, wake up the next day, and boom! Three people wanna write a feature about you, and the number just gets exponentially bigger each day. So, um…” he laughs nervously. “I ran away.”

“What—are you crazy?” Mako snaps. “You could have just said no.”

“I can’t just say no!” he counters, far too quickly. He turns a bit red as he looks down at his leg, steadily kicking against the side of the chair. “I mean—that’d probably make ‘em more suspicious, wouldn’t it?”

Mako raises an eyebrow. “It sounds like you don’t want to say no.”

“I _do!”_ he whines. “But I don’t!” he buries his face in his hands. “Ugh!” Mako’s still staring at him when he peels his hands away. “It just…felt nice to finally let someone know… _that_ about me, you know? And now I have to hide it all over again. That’s not fair.”

“Well, it’s not fair that you’re running away from your responsibilities in your abdication either. People are counting on you, Wu. You’re being selfish.”

And then there’s silence—Wu isn’t looking at him anymore, and Mako does all he can to stop himself from burying his own face in his hands. Had he said something wrong? No, no—he can’t just let Wu get away with everything just because he doesn’t want to be rude. Although he doesn’t know why he still makes the effort. All he’d probably get in response is a pout and some more whining.

Instead, Wu mutters, “I am, aren’t I?” and a smile slowly creeps across his face, almost scary in the dim candlelight. “I’m being _selfish,”_ he declares, like it’s something to be proud of. And he jumps up and squeezes Mako into a hug before he can even open his mouth.

“Oh, I knew you’d say something like that. Thank you.”

He slides his arms out of Wu’s. “Huh?”

Wu grins. “I really needed that.”

Mako shifts uncomfortably as he settles back into his chair. “So…are you going home now?”

His smile looks more embarrassed now as he kicks a leg up. “Wellll, it’s kind of almost one in the morning. You think, uh…maybe…”

Mako puts a hand over his face. “Ugh…fine,” he mutters into it. “But you’re sleeping on the couch. And don’t touch anything in my room.”

He makes a soft _oof_ sound as he falls into bed and feels the left side sink disproportionately under his weight—well, it’s not like he was going to get much sleep tonight either way. The mattress was an old relic from back when he shared a place with Bolin, and Mako should have thrown it out a long time ago, but it’s just one of the thirty-something things he tells himself he’ll get around to and just doesn’t do.

Instead, he just uses his bed to lie awake most of the time, drifts in and out of small pockets of sleep when his body chooses to do so, downs a cup of coffee in the mornings, and conks out for about two to four hours over extra case reports at the dining table after his shift ends. He cringes a bit thinking about it. Spirits, he’s a fucking _mess._

Mako feels that way a lot these days—it’s not even like his friends aren’t messes, either; he knows Asami’s had her fair share of frenzied all-nighters and sleeping atop her scribbled blueprints while Korra makes sure she didn’t leave anything on that might blow up the whole house. It’s something he remembers fondly, an endearing sort of chaos. But with him, it’s just… _sad._ Like something he’s resigned to living in instead of actively letting it into his life.

He doesn’t want to think about it anymore. He’d rather mull over the details of his latest case like he always does when he feels like he’s about to act whiny. But then his body decides for him, and Mako gives in, _resigns,_ like he always does, and figures he’ll do it when he inevitably rolls over a lump in the mattress and wakes up an hour later, like he always does.

He doesn’t even stir until well past daylight’s streaming in through the windows.

“Wow, _someone_ hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in a while. I’ve been sitting like this for an hour calling your name and you were out cold. I’d say I feel bad about knocking at your door so late, but you were up anyways. Ugh, and your blanket was, like, in shreds, so it’s a good thing I brought my own. I mean, buddy, I get this is a bachelor’s pad and all, but do you really just live like this?”

Mako yelps, rolling just far enough to fall off the bed and take in the whole scene: the green silk blanket he’d taken down with him, Wu sitting cross-legged in his nightgown on the bed as he peers over, and how the sunlight dapples him and makes parts of his brown skin glow gold while he frowns.

He glares at him. “I thought I told you you had the couch!”

Wu scoffs, bouncing down. “Well, I hardly think that’s fair when your bed’s big enough for two. Not to mention there’s a huge dent on your side, so you must be in a _world_ of back pain without someone to balance it out. So you’re welcome.”

Mako grunts as he realizes his back _is_ feeling a lot better than it has in a while. He tosses the blanket over to Wu. “Whatever. Um—no,” he adds as Wu makes his way to the bathroom door. “I’m using the bathroom first. You’re gonna take an hour.”

“Aw man!” he calls out as Mako locks himself in.

When he’s out ruffling a towel through his hair, feeling more awake than he has in a while at this time of day, he spots something at the table.

Two cups of coffee. One black, one a much paler brown loaded with sugar and milk. He smiles at the thought of how anyone who had to guess would match each one up to the wrong person. He grabs the sweeter one and spots Wu in the kitchen, waving a box and a spoon around in Mako’s direction.

“Look at me, reading the labels on a can all the way through! Aren’t you proud of me?”

He leans back in his chair. “So, where’s breakfast?”

“Oof. Baby steps, Mako. Unless you like the eggs on top of your rice black.”

* * *

“So, off-duty today, huh?” Wu asks. He’s lying stomach-down on the couch, an arm dangling out near the floor.

They’d had breakfast, and Wu _did_ successfully manage to fry an egg with some help, but couldn’t help but lament that he didn’t get it just the way he likes it. Mako told him to get over it.

(And then he switched their plates around when Wu wasn’t looking.)

“Yeah,” Mako says over at the dining table. He’s got the case file from last night open again, finally, and the last thing he needs is a distraction.

Wu hums. “Not like you to not work overtime.”

“I _am_ working. And how would you know that?”

“Just a hunch. And Korra’s letters.”

“What?” That gets his attention. He turns around. “She wrote about me?”

“Oh,” Wu says, eyes wide as he meets Mako’s gaze. “Well, uh, I’d just ask how you were doing from time to time.” He’s suddenly very interested in tracing the grains on the wood floor.

“Oh,” Mako says, thinks about saying something more as Wu nervously twirls a finger through his hair, and then decides not to. “Okay.” He turns back to his work.

“Okay, _fine,_ I’d ask every letter! I was just, uh. Really worried. About your arm.”

It takes all of Mako’s strength not to turn around again. He’s not used to being distracted like this.

“Okay.”

“Oh, speaking of, you did get my letter, right? There’s nothing much going on right now over there but a bunch of boring procedural stuff, so I tried my hardest to make it interesting. Did you read about the part where—”

Mako sets his pen down. “Wu.”

“Alright, _alright,”_ he whines. “You’re busy, I get it. I can be busy too.”

Mako sees him walk off to rummage through his suitcase, and sighs. He’s barely made it past the second page. Normally he’d be halfway through. He starts scribbling out what he can onto the lines, trying to make up for it, when a giant _thud_ onto the table sends his pen flying.

He jolts. “Hey! What the—”

Wu’s grinning at him, drumming his fingers along the spine of a book so thick Mako thinks even _Wu_ could kill someone with it if he threw it hard enough. “Just some light reading.”

“What _is_ that?”

“Oh, nothing special.” He sits down and joins Mako at the table. “Just the complete, _unabridged account_ of the adventures of Avatar Aang.”

Wu looks up at him expectantly, like he’s waiting for him to be impressed. Mako picks his pen back off the floor and keeps writing.

“Okay.”

“Yeesh,” Wu says, rifling through the pages. “You’re acting like I’m worse than Firelord Zuko when he betrayed Katara.”

He snaps back up. “What? He’d never do that.”

Wu snorts. “Please, you think he was always a defective? The Avatar was on the run for a good while because of him. Eugh, and don’t even get me started on what his hair looked like back then.”

Mako sets his folder aside. “I don’t care about his hair. Why did he betray her?”

Wu looks at him knowingly. “Trust me, you’ll care about his hair soon enough. Anyways, this happened in Ba Sing Se—so forgive me if I’m a little biased about this story being one of my favorites. It is _so_ epic. A crossroads of destiny,” he says, waving his hands. “Sooo, keep in mind that the Firelord was still trying to hunt down the Avatar back then, buuut he was also a fugitive ‘cause of the whole Azula thing, _and_ that whole Dai Li brainwashing mess was still going on, and—no, wait, wait. You look confused. I think I should start a little farther back. Though I dunno how far back…ah, whatever, let’s start from the beginning. You know about the iceberg, right?”

* * *

Wu is a surprisingly good storyteller—or at least, he knows this one so well he doesn’t even need to look through the book, instead leaning his elbow on it or occasionally turning it to certain pages to point out the proof when Mako doesn’t believe him (“Please, there’s no way Sokka’s girlfriend just _turned_ into the Moon”). But regardless of what it is, there’s something about it that makes Mako nearly forget several times that all of this happened over eighty years ago— _nearly,_ namely because Wu keeps adding in commentary on stuff he hates, and stuff he likes, and stuff he hates that other people like. Literally anything is free range for gossip for this man.

Mako blinks. “So you’re telling me that some people think that Firelord Zuko offering to find who killed Katara’s mother was because he _liked_ her?”

“I know, it’s crazy! I mean—” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows, “if you’re asking me, they’re talking about Zuko with the _wrong_ Water Tribe sibling.”

“Wu, shut up! Those are real people.”

He laughs as he leans over the table. “Okay, but hear me out! The whole mess that was the prison breakout? Come on, things were getting pretty _hot_ at the Boiling Rock. Sokka and Zuko had _something_ going on! Well, that and I just like the idea of a bender and a nonbender being together,” he adds after a moment, clasping his hands together. “It sounds cute.”

“But—”

“Come on, Mako, be real with me.” He scoots his chair closer. “It’s just the two of us here. Tell me you didn’t see anything between them.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“I’m late,” Mako says, eyeing the clock on the wall.

“Huh?”

He gets up. “I was supposed to _finish my work_ and go out for lunch today.” He places special emphasis on the first part, but it doesn’t seem to deter Wu.

“Oh, hang on! I have the perfect outfit—”

“What?” Panic rises up in his chest. “No, you can’t go!”

He grabs Mako by the arm and pouts. “Why noooot?”

“It’s…it’s a date thing,” he says without thinking. “Korra and Asami.” His face grows warmer by the second. “And Bolin’s bringing Opal. Now let go of me.”

“Oh.” He falls back on the couch, then narrows his eyes. “Waiiit…If it’s a date thing…then why are you going if you’re single?” He gasps. “Wait, wait—don’t say you met someone without _telling_ me. Shame on you, Mako! What’s she like? Does she—"

“No!” Mako snaps. “I’m single!”

It’s the first time he’s actually admitted it out loud.

“Alright,” Wu says, grabbing onto him from behind and patting him on the shoulders. “No need to get touchy about it.”

He shoves him off, making his way to the door. “Just stay here. You’re not supposed to let anyone see you here anyway.”

“Huh. Funny how the most obvious excuse wasn’t the first one you thought of mentioning…”

Mako turns to look at him one last time just to make sure he’s put. It’s a mistake. Wu’s eyes are soft, full of sincerity when he speaks, and Mako just might have been able to ignore it had he kept his back turned.

“Mako. Are you lonely?”

He inhales, sharp, as he walks out the door. “Just leave me alone, Wu.”

Opal did make it, just like she promised. So Mako’s in a chair at the corner this time, trying his best to make conversation and not think about the fact that if Wu let anyone into his apartment while he was gone it’d look like he’d kidnapped the Earth King for ransom. He knows a few people _had_ tried to do it back in his bodyguard days.

A young woman asks if the seat next to him is taken, then drags it away to her table when Mako says no. Their fingers brush on the back of the empty chair for a moment and then Bolin keeps nagging him about why he didn’t introduce himself long after she leaves.

“Seriously, she really seemed to like you!” he says, slapping the table. “She turned all pink when you bumped into each other, oh, it was so _cute!”_

Opal laughs. “He kind of has to like her back for it to work, Bolin.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, how would he know if he never even tried?”

_Mako. Are you lonely?_

“I just know,” Mako snaps, stabbing at his roast duck. “Now leave me alone.”

He comes back home, not in the mood to talk with anyone, just waiting for Wu to do it anyways because it’s what he seems to be best at. Instead, he just looks up from his book, watches Mako skulk over to the table, and just lets him be. Mako’s not sure whether to be relieved or annoyed. Does he really look _that_ unapproachable right now?

When he opens up his file, he gets the most work he’s ever gotten done in ages. No one stops him. His pen hits the paper a little harder each time when he realizes no one will stop him, until he eventually tears a hole through one and closes his eyes, sighing.

The sun’s nearly down when he opens them again, pink and orange light dancing in through the glass. His face is pressed against the table. He gets up to the smell of something deep-fried.

Wu waves a white box of takeout in his face. “About time.”

He grabs it, slowly, and pulls a wonton out as he frowns. “You went out and got food? I thought you didn’t want anyone to see you.”

Wu snorts. “Real stickler for the rules, huh? _I’m_ the one who made that rule, Mako, and I’m choosing to break it. I don’t really care if anyone sees me here anymore.”

“So what are you going to do if they find you here?”

“I’m gonna use it as a chance,” he says. “For—for other people back home like me. Maybe if they see their soon-to-be-former king is just like them, they’ll think there’s less of a reason for them to keep hiding.”

Mako’s chest tightens a little as he sees the resolve in Wu’s face. There’s no turning back now. “But you said that’s dangerous.”

“So what if it is?” He waves his chopsticks around. “You think people don’t already want me dead for dismantling the monarchy? Yep. You’re looking at a _wanted man._ I think that's pretty sexy of me. _”_

Mako rolls his eyes. But there’s something so _definite_ about the way Wu’s smiling, like he’s found…peace, that makes Mako feel like _he’s_ the embarrassing one here. His chopsticks hover over his food, just out of reach.

He’s scared to reach in. He’s scared to speak. When he does, he’s careful about it.

“How…how did you know?”

“How’d I wha—” He swallows, then realizes. “Oh. The age-old question.” And he’s quiet for a moment, and Mako realizes that Wu’s thinking about it, _really_ thinking about it, being careful about it too because that’s how important this is to him. So he doesn’t mind the silence before Wu starts speaking again, trying to shove off the weight of his own words with a shrug.

“It’s different for everyone, I guess. Sometimes, you don’t even have to think about it, and you just _know._ Sometimes you just think about it really hard and really long all by yourself in the middle of the night—that’s me. Some people might not know until they meet the right person, and everything just clicks, and it’s like, _how did I not know this before? Man, I feel like an idiot!_ And some people just never find out at all.” He looks down at his food. “But that’s sad and I hate sad endings,” he says softly. “I guess I’m doing this because I want less of those.”

“I’m proud of you,” Mako says without warning, without thinking. But he doesn’t need to, he’s sure of that.

Wu’s smile to that is so big and bright that it almost hurts to look at. Mako has to turn away for a moment.

And then—and then it _clicks._

Mako’s stomach drops. It makes sense. It makes so much sense that it scares him. He promptly gets up, tosses his takeout carton in the trash, and makes it to the door of his bedroom before Wu interrupts him. And despite how hard he tells himself not to, he turns around. Wu’s smiling again. And Mako curses himself because this time, he doesn’t _want_ to look away.

“You know what’s weird?” he says to Mako, chuckling. “You haven’t asked me why I haven’t left yet. I only asked to stay the night.”

“Am I supposed to ask you?” It comes out harsher than he means it to.

Wu deflates, and Mako internally kicks himself. What the fuck is wrong with him?

“Well…I don’t really have an answer.”

He turns away, fist pressed against the doorframe. “I’m going to bed.”

“Oh. Alright,” Wu says. “Goodnight, big guy.”

* * *

_“Why aren’t you asleep yet?” Wu asks out of nowhere, effectively scaring the shit out of Mako as he tries to sneak into the room. He bangs his elbow against the door handle and curses._

_“I could ask the same for you.”_

_Of course it’s just his luck to end up with his bed right by Wu again even when they’re taking refuge in Asami’s mansion, where every single person in the rest of his family could get a room for themselves and there’d still be a few left over._

_Whatever, it’s his job, he’s used to it by now. But sometimes these days he’d give anything just to be alone._

_Wu shrugs, sitting upright in his bed now. “Eh. I’m not tired. Figured you were, though. You barely talked to anyone this morning. Didn’t answer even one of my questions! Just stared out in space. You know, we don’t have to do sparring lessons every day if it’s wearing you out that much, right? Even guys like you can’t keep going at it forever.”_

_They weren’t even close to going at it; Wu could only last a good twenty minutes dodging blows before he’d start nagging Mako for a break, and his grandmother was always there to scold him if Mako didn’t comply. The only thing Wu’s been good at doing lately is asking questions. Personal questions. Nosy questions. He should really tell Wu to mind his own business. But he doesn’t._

_He surprises himself with how much he’s willing to open up. About his love life, about his adventures, about his friends. And unlike with sparring, Wu seems to actually pay attention to what Mako’s saying, and Mako flushes just a little bit with all the attention that Wu shoves on him because frankly, it’s embarrassing. Easy, oddly, though he’s never thought himself to be a narcissist, still so_ embarrassing. _He always waits for Wu to make it about him, because that’s what he always does, in literally any other situation, but he’s quiet during their sessions. He’s patient._

_He does speak sometimes, though; that’s just how Wu is. “No way,” he breathes once, when Mako tells him about an old pro-bending match. “You went against the Ba Sing Se Badgermoles? They’re my favorite team!”_

_“Never would’ve guessed,” Mako says dryly._

_“Huh, what—oh, pssh! Not because of the Ba Sing Se part, silly. ‘Cause of the badgermoles! They’re my favorite animal! Did you know they were the original earthbenders? So cool. Their whole way of life is to listen to the earth…and wait before they strike. That’s what earthbending is. That’s what it’s supposed to be. Though the Badgermole_ team’s _earthbender could stand to learn a few lessons on that,” he grumbles._

_And it makes Mako realize Wu always has been patient._

_But today he’d hit a wall with Mako. He’d asked about his parents. It’s been a while since he’s thought about his parents._ _It’s been a while since he’s_ _allowed himself, actually—like every time he talks about them, the words will slip away into the air and never come back. It’s a piece of him he wants to keep to himself._

_—And it’s a piece of him Wu seems to really, really want. He asks him three times just that morning, then once over lunch before realizing he won’t get anywhere with Mako’s curt responses and just leaves him alone. Mako’s never been so relieved._

_Now he rolls into bed, sighing. “I wasn’t tired, Wu, I just didn’t know what to say. Because it’s none of your business, anyways.” There, he’s finally said it._

_“Mm,” Wu hums, but it doesn’t sound like agreement. Then: “I asked Grandma Yin instead.”_

_Funny, how he readily calls Mako's grandmother that when it took Mako a while to even get used to the fact that it wasn't just him and Bolin in this world. He turns away, lies on his side. “Good for you.”_

_“That scarf,” he says quietly, and Mako immediately turns back around and sits up._

_Wu’s legs twist around under his sheets, like he doesn’t_ want _to talk for the first time in his life, but like he has to._

_“It was never enough for you, huh? That scarf? That’s why you were able to give it to her.”_

_Mako stares. He’s never thought about it that way, but it makes so much sense. Too much sense. Sometimes he forgets that Wu’s an orphan, too._

_He turns away again. “It was still hard.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_Everyone’s said that to him before, but it sounds different when Wu says it. Other people say it because they don’t know what else to say. He says it like he means every word of it. That’s the thing with Wu—he means everything he says. And when Mako grew up on the streets, he learned that the world will eat you up alive if you’re like that._

_It’s not his fault the world never wanted him to be that way. It’s not his fault his eyes sting a little when Wu has to say what he can never bring himself to._

_“Hey, is it weird that I feel closer to your dead parents than my dead parents?”_

_And just like that, the feeling’s gone. Mako blinks quickly and turns around to glare at him._

_“Of course that’s weird! Don’t say that.”_

_“Pff, okay,” he says, falling back on his bed, “maybe that came out wrong. It’s just that you have so much…_ family _here, and they probably have so many stories to tell.” He rolls over, in Mako’s direction, and meets his eyes. “When I asked for stories as a kid, all I ever got were a big laundry list of their agendas. Like, oh yeah, the great Hou Ting Lei and his tax reform of ’32. Not the best stuff to get tucked in at night with. Those were what I got when really, I just wanted to know, I dunno, how they liked their_ _coffee. Or which one of ‘em blessed me_ with the power to do thiiiis!” _He sings the last part._

_(That’s the other thing about Wu. You fight back a laugh when you least expect it.)_

_“I never knew what it was like to be part of something_ _like_ this _, though,” he continues, a bit slower, a bit sadder this time, and Mako gets what he means._ Family. _“But it’s nice, you know? It’s nice. So you know what? Even if you’re gonna do the whole tough guy act and say you don’t feel like it, I’m gonna ask everyone here I know about your parents. I wanna know more about them. I feel like that’ll help me know more about you, too.”_

_Mako falls back onto his pillow. “I don’t get why you wanna know more about me all of a sudden.”_

_“What do you mean all of a sudden? I know you like your coffee with way too much milk and sugar.” He gags._

_And maybe it’s the fact that it’s the dead of the night and Wu can’t see his face, but he grins. “Please. I don’t know how you can drink that stuff straight up.”_

_“I don’t know,” he says, and Mako can tell by his tone that he doesn’t mean the black coffee. “I guess I didn’t feel like I had to know your backstory or anything to know who you were. You were just you. That was enough for me. Always has been.”_

_Something clicks in Mako that day, too._

_“What do you mean?” he asks a minute later, despite himself, but Wu’s already asleep._

* * *

He wakes up the next morning, alone, but the blanket’s still there. The silk turns all sorts of colors in the daylight that Mako swears he hadn’t noticed before. He tries breakfast, ends up burning his eggs, and decides to settle for coffee before realizing he’s out of sugar. So he just slips on his uniform and leaves.

Wu should be at least halfway on the train back to Ba Sing Se by now. Probably thought he’d overstayed his welcome, and of course it’s Mako’s fault. Just like it always is when people leave him. He grabs the news on the way, butterflying open the pages to try and find just about anything that would make him think of anything else.

He’s on the front page.

Mako stops in his tracks.

The article says they’d intercepted Wu at the train’s halfway point—spirits, these journalists were brutal. Mako’s heart buzzes too fast for him to register the rest. The words all smudge together except for the headline, spelled out in bold:

**EARTH KING ADMITS TO HOMOSEXUALITY**

Mako nearly crumples the paper up. Fuck them. They didn’t know. Wu didn’t _admit_ to anything. And then he sprints the rest of the way to work, paper still clenched in a sweaty hand by the time he gets there, and the chief looks up from her own copy and raises an eyebrow.

“I need to go,” he says, breathless.

She sets her paper down. “Where?”

“The next train to Ba Sing Se.” He shakes his head. “Wait—I need to sign out, where’s the sheet—”

Lin scowls. “Are you an idiot? Get out of here, kid! _Go!_ You’re losing daylight!”

(“Hmph,” Mako hears her say from behind him as he runs off again. “About time.”)

 _Idiot,_ Mako says to himself the whole train ride through. _Idiot idiot idiot._

He’s had time to read the article now—well, alright, skim through it, he’ll read it word for word once he’s calmed down just a little—and every sentence makes his chest grow tighter.

_When asked about what spurred on his sudden confession, the King turned to an anonymous source of inspiration._

_“I was scared, but I actually just needed a little push to realize that I was being selfish,” he said. “Someone told me looking after this nation was my responsibility, that I couldn’t just run away from that, and he was right. I’m not the only one who’s scared, but maybe, if we work together, no one will be scared anymore.”_

_King Wu also expressed that his disclosing his identity will not change his current way of life._

_“Saying something this big is already kind of overwhelming as it is, wouldn’t you think? I’m not with a man right now and I probably won’t be looking for one for a while. I know—disappointing. Sorry guys, but this heartthrob's gonna be off the market for a while. I mean, there was—is someone else, someone I think about every day, even though I know I’m just hopeless for doing it, because my feelings for him should be pretty obvious by now, I mean, we’ve been at it for years, almost three, and it’s pretty clear he doesn’t feel the same way. Wait, you’re not writing all of this down, are you?”_

Mako actually crumples up the paper now, into a tight little wad. He can get a new copy later if he wants. Half the compartment has their noses buried in it.

_Idiot._

When he steps out, he sees the sun’s set a long time ago. The nights at Ba Sing Se always glow warm yellow, fat lampposts with bright bulbs sticking out of every edge of every path. He doesn’t know which one to take.

The buzz in his head dissipates. He doesn’t know why he’s here, or—he doesn’t know how he _should_ be here. He needs to stop thinking.

He jabs his thumb up and takes a taxi to the nearest bar.

The lights are just as dim and the air just as warm as he remembers it, and it seems the bartender recognizes him, because he gives Mako an odd look when he orders the dragonfruit.

He takes a small sip. It’s actually not that bad.

He leans back against the counter, idly observing the place, the people that constantly come and go. He spots two girls, clumsily dancing together, laughing, speaking a bit too loud after one drink too many, and even if he doesn’t try he can make out them yelling _Earth King._

“Hey, handsome. Wanna dance?”

A woman slinks over, sits next to him, her dress dripping in sequined red. She winks.

“Uh,” Mako says, looking away. “Sorry, I’m taken.”

“Oh!” The woman gasps. “My bad. I’m sure she’s lucky to have you—or he,” she offers, catching herself, turning a little pink. “You have heard about the King, haven’t you?”

Mako’s eyes drift away to the two girls again, drawing each other in for a kiss. He looks back at the woman, smiles.

“Yeah, I have.”

“Oh, you’re taken? That’s a shame.”

Mako twirls around at the sound of it, and there he is, dressed in green and gold, in what should be a tunic except for the fact that it in the front it shows off just a little bit of his midriff, and Mako has to clear his throat before he speaks.

“You…did it,” is all he can manage to say. But Wu beams regardless.

“I know! But…” His expression softens. “I never would have been able to without you. You know that, right? Anyways,” he says, slapping Mako on the back, “listen. Now that everyone _knows,_ I gotta unleash all of _your_ untapped potential.” He clicks his tongue. “I mean, I had a hot, buff, firebending bodyguard following me around for three years and didn’t hit on him even _once?_ So, starting today, I’m gonna hit on you relentlessly. Even when you get a girlfriend. And you gotta deal with— _mmph.”_

Mako grabs him by the shoulders, kisses him. Holy Raava, it feels so _good_ to shut him up. He can hear him squeak at first in surprise, but then he relaxes. He feels Wu’s fingers close around the back of his neck.

“Um,” Wu says, breathless, as he pulls back, grinning from ear to ear, “so I guess you aren’t actually taken, then?”

Mako thinks about it.

“No, I am,” he says, pulling him close again. “I just didn’t know until now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wu would absolutely be that one ass who ships irl people don't even talk to me
> 
> May or may not have been avidly in love with this pairing since 2014. Just can't believe it's taken me this long to actually write something about them. 
> 
> Fic title inspired by the song Bizarre Love Triangle by New Order! Feel like it fits Wuko from Mako's POV very well


End file.
